all apologies
for having the ability
to trace your patterns

lightning scars
are the ivy climbing
stone squamous cells
of my skin

i am sorry for seeing you
with the clarity of
two different colored eyes

one the amber scrying mirror of a poet
the other a blue pool of paint

please forgive
that my depth perception
senses in the dark
you are a sink hole
of endless need

pardon me for the ability
to intuit that your basement
knows no floor

your reasoning
has turned rotten in your easter basket

you smell of sulfur and the same old excuses

my ears hear the hiss of your forked tongue

an opportunistic plague seeping from the corpses of the willing

your crucifix horizon
may go infect
a more foolish queen’s court